


his heart & mine

by SOMNlARl



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, It's minor hurt I swear, Kissing, M/M, really fluffy at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 14:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4182738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of their relationship Dorian receives a letter with some bad news. Cullen goes to comfort him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his heart & mine

**Author's Note:**

> A little minor hurt/comfort fic written for dorianpavus-art on tumblr. Had to get my Inquisitor, Athris, in on the action. 
> 
> tumblr: xhermionedanger. come play in my trash heap or prompt me.

Cullen couldn’t focus.

The last week had been even busier than usual as they prepared for Empress Celene’s ball; packed full of meetings, planning sessions spent hunched over the War Table or his desk, the dreaded uniform fittings with the Dwarven tailor who Cullen swore stuck pins in him on purpose and one minor disaster after another, all of which had required his attention. Once he had a moment to breathe he would have to address that, his lieutenants should be more than capable of handling these smaller issues on their own but of late everything from minor disagreements in the ranks to near brawls between the mages and some of his greener ex-Templar recruits had forced him to personally intervene. 

He’d barely had time to eat let alone sleep and he had become even more grateful than usual for Fern, the young Elvish scout assigned to him who always seemed to know when a tray of food he could eat one-handed while answering correspondence or a mug of bitter elfroot tea would be welcome, and a bed right above his desk he could collapse into for a few hours just before dawn. 

It was a beautiful day at Skyhold, sunny and lacking the frigid winds that seeped deep into his bones which he’d become accustomed to and he couldn’t help but gaze wistfully out the window towards the snow-topped peaks of the Frostbacks rather than concentrating. 

He half-stifled a loud yawn into a fist, looking up to find the stiflingly warm room suddenly silent, Josephine looking hurt and Leliana fixing him with a withering glare. 

_Thank the Maker looks couldn’t actually kill._

“Are we boring you, Commander?” The spymaster asked pointedly. Cullen looked to Lavellan for backup, the elf had nearly as little patience for diplomacy as he did, but he merely shrugged; a wry, pitying grin and a flick of a single long, pointed ear the only sympathy or assistance he would receive from the Inquisitor. Herald of Andraste, indeed. 

He cleared his throat lightly, gloved fingers fluttering up to rub at the back of his neck. “I… no! Of course not, my apologies. Please continue, Ambassador.”

But he was bored and just after Josephine started her lecture on Orlesian social niceties and table manners he found himself drifting off again. 

Worse still than the endless meetings and the necessary socializing with various visiting nobles was the fact that he hadn’t seen Dorian in nearly a week aside from fittings and passing him in the halls on the way to still more appointments. Even that had last happened two days ago in Dorian’s alcove in the library and nothing since then. He had stopped for a moment - fingers of one hand tangling between the mage’s and a thumb stroking softly down the back of his hand, the other cupping his cheek - and had just been about to pull him closer when Leliana had called for him again, sounding murderous. An apologetic smile and a whispered promise of later had been all he’d had time for before he pulled away. 

He missed Dorian he realized with a sudden pang of aching, twisting need deep within him. He missed him and _Maker when had that happened_?

It had been an uneasy thing at first, Dorian’s shameless flirting and quick wit over the chessboard had left him a blushing, stammering mess on more than one occasion. As the weeks passed and he grew more comfortable in Dorian’s company they had fallen into an easy, fast friendship. 

Afternoons would frequently find Dorian throwing open the doors to his office without even a knock or a how do you do to drop off a pile of books that the mage insisted he simply must read before sweeping back out imperiously. _It’s Genitivi Commander, an absolute classic. I shudder to imagine the state of Fereldan’s educational standards if you’ve made it to your age without reading Genitivi_. 

Evenings found them either in the Herald’s Rest, Dorian lecturing on his most recent breakthrough while Cullen listened attentively, nursing a tankard of ale and usually a headache from the stresses of the day or back in his office, sharing a bottle of wine stolen from Josephine’s private cellar while Cullen finished up the day’s reports to the sound of Dorian recounting the latest gossip from the Keep. 

It had been safe. Comfortable. Familiar. It had been until the night he kissed Dorian up against the ladder in his office after a few too many glasses of wine. It was the first time he’d ever found the mage speechless. He’d been sure that Dorian would leave, possibly even hit him for his presumptuousness but silence turned into a harder, desperate kiss that left them both breathless as Dorian took his hand and near-dragged him up the ladder. 

Just thinking back to that night brought a smile to his face. At least until his thoughts were again interrupted. 

“Commander!” 

He looked up guiltily; Leliana looked furious, the Inquisitor was unsuccessfully trying not to smirk. Cullen knew that Athris hadn’t been paying any more attention than he had been but of course he was the one who got caught. 

“Would you care to tell us all how you intend to navigate the murky waters of Halamshiral since you so clearly don’t need Josephine’s advice? This is the Game, Commander. A matter of life or death.”

He cleared his throat again and opened his mouth to reply before Leliana began to speak again, her voice dangerously quiet. 

“And _no_ , stabbing is not an option.”

He closed his mouth, feeling his cheeks redden. Now the Inquisitor was laughing and he flushed deeper. It was Josephine who finally came to his rescue. 

“It seems we could all use a break, perhaps we should adjourn until tomorrow?”

***

Cullen went immediately up the stairs to the library, taking them two at a time. The better part of the afternoon was still before him and he knew there would be no better opportunity for him to find Dorian and slip away for a few hours. He could delegate the remainder of today’s reports to Fern, he’d addressed everything critical in the morning and she was more than capable handling what remained. 

He stopped short as he reached the alcove the mage had claimed for himself. There were stacks of books _everywhere_ , even on the overstuffed armchair, and sheets of parchment covered in scrawled notes were scattered on the small table and the floor. But there was no Dorian. Odd, he thought. The mage was rarely to be found anywhere else in Skyhold, at least not until evening. 

Cullen walked back downstairs. He looked in the wine cellar, the Undercroft, the gardens, the courtyard. He even checked the training grounds and then the tavern with no success; the Chargers were there but no sign of the mage. 

He nearly walked right into the Inquisitor as he left the tavern and muttered out a quick apology. He was only a few quick steps into the courtyard when he turned. 

“Inqui… Athris.” The elf had made it more than clear that continued use of his title was the fastest way to get on his bad side. Since Athris was more than capable of throwing a fireball straight at his face Cullen had decided to bow to his whims and forgo formality.. 

"Mmmmm?' The elf hummed questioningly, looking back at Cullen over a shoulder before turning to face him. 

"You... haven't seen Dorian today, by chance?"

Athris frowned, his ears quirking downward. "I was rather hoping you had, actually. I saw him this morning, he'd had a letter, but nothing since then."

"A letter? From whom?" Cullen's heart sank, letters for Dorian were rarely full of good news.

Athris shrugged. "No idea but he looked a bit... upset. Left pretty quickly too."

"Ah." Cullen kept his tone light and attempted a smile. "Well, thank you. I won't keep you any longer."

There was only one person in Skyhold who might know where Dorian would be if he didn't wish to be found. Well, two actually but one had already glared daggers at him today.

It would have to be the dwarf.

***

"I told you Curly, I haven't seen him today."

"But you know where he might go."

Varric grinned as he looked back down at his parchment, jotting a quick note in the margins. "You have faith in me. I'm flattered. But I still don't know where Sparkler is."

Cullen groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. He could feel a headache lurking at the corners of his consciousness. 

"He's a mage though right? Maybe I'm wrong but I could have sworn we had that fancy new mage tower..."

***

The room went silent as Cullen pushed through the door and walked into the tower, the same awkward silence he hadn't faced since he was still a Templar. Although that life was long behind him here it was clear he would always be Knight-Commander before anything else.

He ignored the stares as he climbed up to the second floor and then to the third. Still no Dorian. He sighed heavily, _where was he_? Skyhold was full of good hiding places, if he had to search them all he might die of old age before he found him.

He was just about to walk back down and continue his search when his gaze lit upon a ladder leading up. _Ah, there. Of course._ It was secluded, far from curious eyes and, being the highest point of the Keep, dramatic in a way that was sure to appeal to the mage. 

The wind howled and buffeted against him as he opened the trap door, teasing out a shiver as it slipped beneath his cloak. And yes, there was Dorian, slumped against the stone crenellation, knees pulled tight into his chest. There was an empty bottle of wine at his feet and another clasped tightly in one hand, the other was raking slowly through his uncharacteristically mussed hair.

"Commander!'" Dorian exclaimed brightly. It sounded forced, the clipped words caught in the back of his throat and the smile on his face didn't reach his eyes. "Lovely of you to join me, care for a drink?" He waved the bottle half-heartedly in Cullen's direction.

"Dorian..." Cullen winced as he knelt to sit beside him, his knees protesting as they hit the cold stone. "Are you..."

"Brilliant? Charming? An utter delight?" Dorian snorted. A dark, bitter laugh tore from his throat. He lowered his head, dropping it onto his knees.

Cullen forced a chuckle to cover the concern rising in him at Dorian's flippancy. "All of those things, yes. I would also add infuriating and, frankly, difficult to track down when you don’t want to be found.” 

He tugged gently at the mage's hand, teasing at his fingers until Dorian released his hold on his hair and allowed Cullen to lower his hand to clasp it between his. He traced his fingers across the gold rings encircling Dorian’s fingers before raising it to brush his lips across his knuckles. 

“But what I was going to ask was if you were alright." A foolish question, he knew - Dorian was clearly not alright - but he asked it all the same. Better to allow him the dignity of choosing to answer for himself than to have Cullen force it from him. 

“I…” Dorian’s breath hitched and it was then that Cullen realized his eyes were glossy, red-rimmed, his cheeks tear-streaked. “No,” he said quietly as he looked away, off across the battlements to the . “No, I suppose I’m not.”

Worse than the expression on his face - equal parts fury and misery - was his quiet, resigned acceptance of his state. Cullen had never seen him like this before; angry yes, frustrated, upset, throwing barbed insults and empty bottles across the room as though they were fireballs but never so deeply unhappy. Not even after the meeting with his father at Redcliffe had he been this despondent. 

_Maker_ but he wanted to touch him, fold Dorian into his arms and close the space between them as though his embrace could act as a barrier to keep the world from hurting him. He hesitated; what they had between them a fragile thing, easily broken and he settled instead for sliding next to Dorian and raising an arm as though to lay it across his shoulders. 

“Can I?” He took Dorian’s shrug and soft hum as invitation and lowered his arm, letting his fingers trail through the overgrown ends of the mage’s hair just beginning to curl at his neck. 

Dorian sighed and looked back at him, moving to tuck his face in the dip of Cullen’s shoulder. 

“It’s Felix. He…” His breath hitched and he let a slow, ragged breath out. For a moment it seemed like he might master himself until Cullen heard a strangled sob stifled in the soft fur of his mantle. 

Dead then, Cullen thought as he tightened his grip around Dorian’s shoulders as they shook. He’d read the reports; death never came as a surprise, not with the Blight but dreadful still, especially with Felix being so young. He’d seemed well enough, even vibrant, before sailing back to Tevinter. It must have been a quick decline. 

He pulled Dorian into his chest, holding him close until the quiet tears stopped with a soft sniffle and his shaking stilled, rubbing slow circles against his back with the palm of a hand. 

“I’m sorry, Dorian. I know you and he were close.”

“Were we anymore?” The bitterness laced in Dorian’s voice, thick with tears, made him cringe. “I left long before I ever left Tevinter, we hadn’t seen each other for months. I changed. He had too, of course. He became a better man, the sort Tevinter needed and now he’s gone. But we were hardly the same people; he had long since ceased to be the mischievous boy who snuck me cakes at midnight and I… was not a man to look up to anymore.”

“Dorian…” 

“No,” he insisted. “It’s absolutely true, Cullen. He was… the best man I ever knew. How he became so dedicated to making things right, to fixing things, to being kind in the snake pit he was raised in… it’s a miracle. His loss will be felt deeply and not just by me. My homeland is a much worse place for the loss of a man like Felix even if they don’t know it yet.”

Cullen didn’t know what to say so he kept silent so Dorian could keep talking if he wished, simply kept his arms wrapped around him as a fresh well of tears overtook the mage. 

“It’s just… it’s not right. His death, it was so needless. I could have… if I’d only stayed… we could have found a cure. If I hadn’t been so _fucking selfish_...” 

Now the quiet tears turned to heaving, wracking sobs as Dorian buried his face in Cullen’s chest, clinging to him with the desperation of a man being saved from drowning. It was a new sensation for him, to say the least. It wasn’t that he’d never comforted another man before; he’d had a younger brother and the newest Templar recruits would frequently seek out the older members when homesickness and the Order’s strictures proved too much to cope with. 

But this, this was different. There was nothing he could say to make any of it better, no words that would ease the pain and so again he stayed silent, busying his hands with rubbing Dorian’s back, smoothing sweaty strands of hair away from his face and wiping away smudged streaks of kohl from his cheeks. 

It wasn’t that he was unprepared for this moment except now? In the midst of it? He had no battleplan. He had mapped every possibility, taken into account every variable except for the two that couldn’t be plotted; the aches and needs of their own two hearts. 

And yet somehow, as Dorian curled closer against him, he knew that this was right. Even as Dorian’s pain threatened to overwhelm him, twisted at the hollow space between his ribs until he gasped and brought the faintest prickle of hot water behind his own eyes; it hurt but somehow, helping made it hurt less. Even as he desperately wanted Dorian to stop he knew that this was something the mage needed and waited for it to run its course, alternating between whispering words of encouragement - _it’s fine love, you’re fine, get it all out, that’s it, go on_ \- and pressing soft kisses into his hairline. 

It felt like hours before Dorian finally quieted, the tortured sobs replaced by exhausted, weak sniffles as Dorian slumped further into his side, as though even holding himself upright was too much effort. 

“I’m… so very sorry,” he whispered, voice rough from exertion, as he struggled to sit up. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me now.”

“I think,” Cullen replied softly as he cupped Dorian’s chin in a hand, turning his jaw to face his own. “I think that you are incredibly brave.”

Dorian snorted, rolling his eyes. He tried to turn to look away across the battlements again but Cullen held him firm. 

“I think that you are one of the bravest men I have ever known. I think you are brilliant and kind-hearted and I know that you care deeply, about everything. And while I regret that I never knew Felix, I think you underestimate the number of good men Tevinter has created.” He leaned forward to press a kiss against Dorian’s pursed lips, tasting the salt left there by dried trails of tears. 

“Dorian, you are a good man. I can’t say if Felix was better but if anyone was capable of fixing things in Tevinter, of making things right? I know that you are more than equal to that challenge. You are good and kind and compassionate and while it may be easier to hide that under your facade of easy confidence and brashness, you need to start believing that of yourself.” 

Dorian blinked hard, rubbing at his eyes as a small smile teased at his lips. His kohl was smeared around his eyes, cheeks red and blotchy and his hair had fallen, flopping onto his forehead. 

“And I should mention that you’re also incredibly handsome even after this although this might be the one time I come close to matching your level of attractiveness,” he added with a smirk that rapidly grew into a smile that threatened to split his jaw as Dorian chuckled, all traces of pain wiped from him. 

“Close, perhaps. But not quite I’m afraid,” Dorian laughed again as Cullen frowned then leaned in for another kiss; long and deep this time, his hands tangled in the warrior’s curls and Cullen’s hands grasping firm at his hips. 

“Thank you, Cullen” he breathed, pulling away just slightly before locking into the man’s embrace again, this time coming to lie against the man's side, laying his head back against the cold stone walls. 

As he shivered against the wind Cullen rose, pausing to take Dorian's hand in his. "Come," he said, "back to my office, you can't stay out here any longer. You'll freeze to death in those cutout robes."

Dorian rose with him but his face fell. "Cullen, I'm really not up to..."

"And I don't expect it," Cullen replied softly as he helped the mage back to his feet and towards the ladder, a hand gently resting on his lower back to guide him. "But come anyway. Please?"

***

Back in his office Cullen tried halfheartedly to get back to work. The pile of paperwork on his desk had grown even higher since he left it this morning, it was threatening to topple off and onto the floor but for once he didn't care. 

A small contented noise came from the loft above followed by the rustling of blankets. 

_Damn the paperwork,_ he thought as he yawned, stripping off his armor piece by piece and placing it softly on the floor beside his desk. 

He bolted the doors shut before starting the climb up the ladder. Fern would just have to deal with any situations that developed. _Or break the locks if it was a true emergency_ , he thought ruefully, having learned his lesson about her abilities when they'd first come to Skyhold and he'd just wanted a bit of privacy. 

As his head popped over the edge of the loft he could hear Dorian sigh softly in his sleep; it pulled at his heart, for the first time in hours Dorian sounded at peace and he smiled as he lifted the blankets to slip beneath them, lying behind the mage. 

Dorian stirred slightly at the dip in the mattress and slid backwards towards him until they were pressed closely together, Cullen's arms wrapped across his chest. 

"Thank you, Amatus," the mage mumbled softly, his breath evening and slowing as he drifted back off to sleep. 

_Amatus._

Cullen liked the sound of it, unfamiliar though it was. He rolled the syllables across the tip of his tongue a few times, testing them out. 

He would have to ask Dorian what it meant eventually, he mused. But for now, having the mage in his arms, asleep and safe was more than enough for him.


End file.
